Truth and Lies
by NotesfromaClassroom
Summary: No two people experience an event the same way...Nyota, Sarek, and Spock share two different moments with very different points of view.
1. The Comfort of Words

**The Comfort of Words**

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine!

No one who has seen Spock and his father Sarek together would ever say that Spock is unexpressive. Compared to Sarek, Spock broadcasts emotions freely, his eyebrow raised in skepticism, his eyes narrowed in annoyance, his head angled when he is concentrating with more than his usual attention.

Sarek, by contrast, is a blank slate. Even to Nyota Uhura, who prides herself on her ability to read Spock's posture and inflection, Sarek is silent and contained. Several times lately she has looked up from her station on the bridge and noticed his gaze, as if he were appraising the equipment where she works without seeing her at all. His eyes are so dark that they look black—impenetrable, inscrutable, almost reptilian. That is an unfair comparison, Nyota knows. In the week since Amanda's death, he has been attentive, tirelessly serving the Vulcan elders being ferried back to earth on the limping Enterprise.

But then, so has Spock. In addition to organizing the crew rotation and coordinating the towing procedures to get the Enterprise safely to Spacedock, Spock has met with the Vulcan elders when he is off-shift, setting up communications protocols to contact all survivors and register them in a comprehensive database.

He eats sporadically and sleeps less. Most of his meals are taken in his cabin, a featureless double room where he has not bothered to unpack his duffel or set up his personal computer.

On the first night after Spock and Jim Kirk had returned from the Narada only to see it slicked backward into the singularity, Nyota had come to his cabin to check on him briefly—she knows he needs to be alone to meditate, and she herself needs quiet to think about what she has pieced together about his suicide run in the Jellyfish.

On board the Enterprise, Nyota had caught her breath when she realized what he intended—what his outbound signal suddenly doubling back on itself implied, and then when Jim Kirk had called for the transporter—well, she had shouted out to Hannity, a cadet she had known from one morphology class, to take her station, and she had bolted for the transporter room, arriving in time to see Jim and Spock and a badly broken Captain Pike beaming back. Her relief was palpable—and she had reached without thinking and met Spock's outstretched hands briefly-enough to pick up his own...amazement...yes, that was his feeling...his amazement to be alive.

He had expected to die, and he hadn't, and now he was amazed—and grateful to see her standing there beside the rushing medical team.

But as glad as she was then, the moment she ruminates on again and again had come before, when Spock had been the most human she has ever seen him, when he had kissed her on the transporter pad, indifferent to anyone around them, with a freedom she had thought they would never have. But even that pales to what matters more to her_—"I will be back,"_ he had said, knowing it was probably a lie, or at the least, something he would never say-something so unverifiable, so devoid of statistics and certainty that saying it amounted to an abnegation of who he was.

At that moment, he was offering her comfort in a way he had never done before. It was the closest he had ever come to saying _I wish_, the closest he had ever come to saying _I love you_. Nyota thinks about those words—replays their intonation, rehears their tone—so often all that she has to do to flash through them again is to imagine her eyes closed, her forehead pressed to his.

When she veers too close to remembering the suicide run, she stops herself and thinks about the lie, the promise, instead, just as she has since that first night when she had shown up at his door. _I will be back_, she knows, means _I cannot bear to leave you._

That first night when she had shown up at his door, he had answered too swiftly to have been meditating, and when she spoke to him, instead of replying, he stepped back into his cabin. She understood that she was being invited to stay.

Except to attend to her shift, she does not leave for the next week and a half. If anyone notices or is surprised to see her come and go, they do not mention it. She is probably the only one aboard who finds what she is doing remarkable.

They are almost never in the cabin at the same time, but when they are a day out from earth, Nyota is drifting to sleep when she is dimly aware that Spock is undressing and pulling back the duvet. She rolls over, opens her eyes, and feels a pang of despair at the nakedness of his expression, the flush of anger and grief she has seen only once before. He must have assumed she was asleep, because when she looks again, Spock's face is more composed—the rage and sorrow muted, and for all that, sadder to Nyota. She reaches up to touch his face to let him know that she understands his need to hide his grief, and to offer him a chance to show it to her if he will.

Instead, he pulls her hand away from his face and Nyota cannot hide her disappointment. Does he sense this? He squeezes her fingers briefly before letting go of her hand and turning over.

For a time Nyota tries to still the hurt and the embarrassment she feels about it. He has lost his entire world and she is looking for attention. She is mortified to be so self-absorbed. Finally she falls asleep.

She has to climb through several layers of confusing dreams to recognize the door chime hours later. As she slides from beneath the duvet, she is surprised to see Spock still asleep beside her. Usually he sleeps so lightly that any noise disturbs him, but the door chime sounds again and he doesn't stir. She grabs her caftan from the chair and slips it over her head before padding on bare feet to the door in the adjacent room.

If Sarek is surprised to see her, his face doesn't show it. Nyota, on the other hand, is completely discomfited.

"Ambassador!" she says in a register too loud. "Come in."

Sarek does not move and Nyota realizes that she is blocking his entrance. She turns and walks toward the compact loveseat, motioning to Sarek to sit. He is wearing his usual heavy textured overcoat and dark pants and jacket—Nyota starts to offer to take his coat but remembers Vulcan sensitivity to the cold. Instead, she treads lightly across to the control pad on the wall and dials up the heat.

"Spock is asleep," she says as she walks back to the loveseat and lowers herself in a facing chair.

Again she watches Sarek's face for...what? Surprise, disappointment? Has Spock told him about their relationship? Or has Amanda? Nyota had met her only once on earth—but that was when her relationship with Spock was but a few months old and they were especially careful with each other in public. Nyota wasn't even sure how long Amanda had been on earth that time—they had spoken for a few minutes, and then only in passing—and after she had asked Spock to introduce her, which her did, quietly, quickly, as one of his former students who was considering a position as his assistant. Had Amanda given her a knowing look then? At the time Nyota had dismissed it as her fevered fantasy, a wish for an open acknowledgment of their growing intimacy. Now she isn't so sure.

Sarek sits, immobile and centered, and Nyota feels herself becoming annoyed and anxious. If he disapproves of her being here—well, that's too bad, she decides. When she is jittery she often talks too much, and to her horror, she finds herself opening her mouth.

"Would you care for some tea, Ambassador? We have some Vulcan tea, I think, or I can get something else from the galley if you are hungry-"

Nyota feels her face flush as that "we" hangs in the air. Forget that she is sitting here barefooted in sleeping clothes. Forget that having tea bags and mugs is not exactly setting up housekeeping. But she is speaking of this man's son in the familial plural—does he notice?

He doesn't seem to. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, a ghost—no, a distant echo—of what Spock does when he is finished calculating something and is ready to tell the results.

"I must speak to Spock," Sarek says, not imperiously, the way Nyota imagined he would, but insistent and direct.

"Do you want me to wake him?" she asks, but before Sarek can answer, Spock is at the doorway, his hair tousled, his black sleeping pants and loose shirt wrinkled.

Sarek and Nyota both stand immediately, and later Nyota will think back to this moment as a summons she responded to instinctively without realizing its import.

"I should get dressed and head on to my shift," she says, and although she is not scheduled for duty for another 2.4 hours, Spock does not correct her. Sarek stares at her, devoid of emotion. Both men stand, their arms behind their backs, as she awkwardly gathers up her uniform and retreats to the wash area to change. Once she thinks she hears Spock's voice as she slips on her boots, but when she comes back out, neither seems to have moved.

She hates to leave Spock here with his father. She doesn't know all the details, but she does know that theirs has been a strained relationship since Spock turned down his appointment at the Vulcan Science Academy. On the other hand, they have both lost so much in the past week—surely they can offer each other some sort of companionship not fraught with personal animosity now? Especially since they will reach earth tomorrow and Sarek and the other Vulcans will be on their way. With a sigh, Nyota hopes that the two men will be able to say their farewells better without her in the way.

"I'll see you on the bridge," she says to Spock. Without thinking, she trails her hand along his forearm and at last he looks at her with more than a passing glance. He seems to be about to say something, but instead he follows her to the door and they exchange a look before he turns back towards his father and she goes down the corridor to a day of work.

Author's Notes: This chapter is from Nyota's POV—up next, what Sarek saw. Thanks to StarTrekFanWriter for her encouragement and suggestions. It is a pleasure to be her beta!


	2. Things Said and Unsaid

**Things Said and Unsaid**

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

The corridors on the ship are uniformly white and black, appropriately sterile-looking and non-distracting. Sarek has not been on this corridor before but the numbering is logical—another mildly pleasing realization—and he quickly finds the cabin he is searching for.

He pauses for a moment before reaching for the door chime. This will be in the middle of Spock's off-duty time. Perhaps he should wait? But the elders may require his attention shortly. Better to go ahead now and finalize the arrangements. The odds that Spock is occupied with something that cannot be postponed are almost nil.

Even before the door opens Sarek knows that Spock is not behind it—the slight footfall right before the door opens indicates a smaller person, and indeed, he notes that Lieutenant Uhura is at least 30 kilograms lighter than his son.

In the week since Amanda died, Sarek has had moments when he felt her absence more intensely than others. This is one of those moments. He remembers a conversation they had had many months earlier after one of Spock's regular video calls.

"I think Spock has a young woman," Amanda had announced, grinning, after the call was over and she and Sarek were sitting outside eating their evening meal and watching 40 Eridani setting behind the angular nearby mountain range.

Sarek had not replied. Instead, he continued to ladle his soup and waited for Amanda to speak. She would soon, he knew—exasperated that he had not taken her bait. It was one of the many games they played...

"Well, aren't you going to ask me anything?" she finally said, almost on cue.

"I was there during your conversation with Spock, and I heard nothing about a young woman," Sarek replied.

"But mothers know—"

"And how is it that you know something which is not said?"

Amanda smiled and waggled her spoon in the air.

"I know many things that aren't said aloud," she said, and Sarek caught her glance and held it a moment longer than necessary. Game point to Amanda.

"Besides, it wasn't what he didn't say, but what he did say," she added.

Sarek put his own spoon down into his bowl of soup and waited.

"The last time I spoke to him, Spock said that he was beginning some new research that would involve a great deal of time in the lab—he was warning me that we might have to reschedule our calls. And when I asked him today if we did need to set up a different schedule, he said the research had finished up earlier than expected—"

"I fail to see how this information is relevant to your comment that—"

"Just listen! And when I asked how he managed to finish so quickly, he became very evasive, and I had to keep prodding him and then he finally said that his new assistant had been very helpful—"

"And you assume that this new assistant is a young woman?" Sarek resumed dipping his spoon in his soup. Just the kind of rabbit hole Amanda sometimes jumped into—illogical but oddly entertaining to hear tell of—when it did not involve him personally.

"I didn't assume anything!" Amanda said. "I already knew his assistant was a young woman. She's been his assistant for months now! That's not what—"

"You have not spoken of this before," Sarek said with more equanimity than he felt. It was a small matter—Spock had an assistant, as he should with his increased duties as a teacher and researcher. Why, then, had Amanda not told him? Perhaps he was reading too much into her omission? But hadn't she always found every detail of Spock's life worth relating to him, particularly since father and son rarely spoke directly to each other, or at least, not for any length of time.

Sarek felt the familiar rush of anger that he struggled to control when he thought about Spock—a rush of anger mixed with pride and sorrow and...he breathed in and did the usual mental gymnastics that accompanied his disappointment in his son. Illogical, he knew. Spock's decisions were his own and should not cause anyone else any feelings-

"Are you listening?" Amanda said suddenly, and just as suddenly, she reached across the table and let her fingers drift to his hand.

"I am now," Sarek said, putting aside his feelings and looking up at her.

"So, then I said that I was glad he was finished up early because we wouldn't have to change our scheduled calls after all, and Spock said that he would have to change at least one because he was going out of town for a few weeks during the school break and wasn't sure what type of equipment would be available for subspace video."

Amanda was smiling broadly by now. Sarek pushed back his empty bowl and said, "And this is how you know what you know?"

"He's going to Africa!"

"And?"

"That's where his assistant is from!"

"And this means that—?"

"Sarek, are you being deliberately dense?"

Yes, he was. When he and Amanda had first married—indeed, for their first few years as husband and wife, he was often tangled in their words and needed help sorting out their meaning. But by now—well, this was another game.

"Africa has many features to recommend it for a visit," Sarek said evenly, and seeing Amanda take a breath to reply, he added quickly, "and perhaps his assistant is one of those features."

That memory flashes through his mind between the time he sees that the Lieutenant is standing at the door and the moment when she says, "Ambassador!" Her eyes are wide—he has evidently caught her off-guard—though what she might have been doing that she would not have wanted him to know about baffles him.

The room behind her is tidy—nothing is out of place, not even a PADD sitting on a counter top—so she has not been working. Sleeping then? Her outfit does suggest something casual enough for comfortable sleeping. He tries to think if Amanda had owned any similar clothes, but for years now she had preferred Vulcan couture.

Again he wishes Amanda were here. She would know the significance of the clothes. Even more, she would know what to say. Instead, Sarek cannot think of any social niceties—obviously he needs to review the protocols for dealing with humans. How disturbing that after so many years of service he should be at a loss for what to say right now.

The Lieutenant steps back and Sarek follows her into the cabin. Spock must be in the wash room or must not be here—something Sarek had not considered when he had decided to speak to him. For a moment he feels a prickle of concern that he will have to talk to the Lieutenant at length until Spock returns. His relationship with his son has always been tenuous, but for now they are united in their grief and their determination to gather the Vulcan survivors into a feasible group. Sarek does not want to jeopardize that relationship by doing anything to offend Spock's companions.

The Lieutenant is saying something about tea and Sarek hears a note of possessiveness in her voice. Is this, in fact, Spock's "young woman"? Amanda would know. Sarek has been an ambassador on earth long enough to know the many variations of human coupling. Perhaps Spock and the Lieutenant are sharing quarters? That would explain her casual dress. Does she know about Spock's plans to leave Starfleet? That might cause her distress if she and Spock are—Sarek hesitates over the human word—_lovers._

Speculating with so little data is exhausting.

"I must speak with Spock," he says, and to his relief, Spock appears.

Clearly he has been awakened. So they are sharing quarters. This could complicate matters, though Sarek is certain that Spock's earlier discussion with the elders was indicative of his wishes. He is young, after all, and human coupling is easy to dissolve.

Almost as if she understood what he was thinking, the Lieutenant offers to leave. This is surprisingly insightful on her part, and Sarek sends her what he hopes is a grateful look. While she is in the wash area getting dressed, Spock repeats her offer for tea and food and Sarek declines.

"I'll see you on the bridge," the Lieutenant says as she touches Spock, and Sarek feels a stab of grief that Amanda is not here to see this tenderness offered to her son. He hopes that once they are settled on a new colony, he can find a suitable bondmate for Spock, someone who will help him in their work to forge a new Vulcan.

Spock follows the Lieutenant to the door and continues to watch her as she leaves. When the door closes he waits a beat before turning to his father, and Sarek almost loses his composure at the fury in his son's eyes.

But it flickers away and is replaced by something flatter, duller. Without speaking, Spock moves deliberately to the chair Nyota had sat in earlier.

"I have our transport arranged," Sarek begins, and Spock nods, slowly. "You've spoken to the captain?"

Spock does not look up, but he says softly, "No." Then he adds, "I have not had time to speak to him privately."

Sarek looks closely at his son and sees Amanda there, and himself, blended in Spock's features. Spock's eyes are a warmer brown, his skin pale like his mother's.

Later Sarek will wonder if that thought will influence what he says next. It is not what he has come to say—indeed, his actual list includes details about their accommodations on earth, meetings with the elders, transport schedules...minutiae that do not need to be communicated in person. Something illogical—some emotional reason—has driven him here to Spock's cabin to speak in person.

"You do not have to give up your commission," he says, and finally Spock looks up. "I realize that you have a place here, people here, who value who you are. If you want to stay, I will speak to the elders on your behalf."

Spock says nothing. His face, for once, is completely unreadable, and this makes Sarek uncharacteristically nervous.

"I will not ask you to give up the things that have the most meaning for you," Sarek says, and for a moment Spock looks down at his own hands. When he looks up again, his expression is still cool, though resolute.

"Thank you, Father," he says, and Sarek feels surprise. His control is so poor today; is grief this debilitating for others, he wonders? He makes a note to ask the elders.

Sarek stands up then and begins walking back to the cabin door. Spock reaches up beside him to press the exit button and he says, "I'll speak to the captain today and tell him I'm resigning my commission."

Sarek remembers the Lieutenant's touch on his son's arm. Amanda would say something at this juncture, but Sarek cannot fathom what it might be. Whatever he says will be wrong, will upset the balance they have at this moment—but Amanda would say something, so he says, "And your—companions? You will tell them?"

A frown flashes across Spock's brow and then is replaced by what Sarek recognizes as sorrow—indeed, he sees it in his own expression when he looks in the mirror these days.

"Yes, of course I will," Spock says, and Sarek nods and walks into the corridor.

Author's Notes: One of the great pleasures of a story told from more than one point of view is the re-evaluation the reader must give as new information emerges. That is, what we thought we knew isn't always "true"—if you take a glance back at chapter one now, let me know if you enjoy the way "truth" is in the eye of the beholder.

Next chapter is how this scene looked to Spock.


	3. Lies

**Lies**

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Lately when he tries to meditate, he is troubled by the same image. Part of him is ashamed that it is not his mother he sees or the view of Vulcan imploding as the Enterprise sped away but Nyota's face as they stood on the transporter pad_—"I will be back"_—he had said, knowing that the chance of success was so small almost to be beyond calculation.

The lie had come unbidden and effortlessly—and the ease with which he told it still astonishes him. This is what it is to be fully human, he had thought at the time, and that idea has reverberated often.

Nyota is asleep when he comes in from his latest meeting with the elders. Although he has deferred any decision until today, the elders have not pressured him, and for that, at least, he is grateful. If anyone was surprised when he accepted their offer to join the new colony, no one showed it. Spock suspects that they would have been equally unsurprised if he had turned them down-their control is that complete.

His own control troubles him. Again he thinks of Nyota's face—her quick upturned glance, her slight pulling back as he said "I will be back." His face flushes with the shame of the lie-no, not the lie, but what it says about him. No Vulcan would have said such a thing-nothing could justify it. It is the kind of lie his mother might have told him when he was small—that he would make friends at his new school, that his teachers were race-blind, that some people were bigots but most were not—lies offered when justice was not possible, when comfort was the best he could hope for.

Before he leaves the Enterprise he wants to make right the lie, but when he tries to imagine how to begin, he falters. Nyota will see through any stratagem—he must be clear within himself so that he can articulate why the lie continues to haunt him, why it will not be meditated away.

After only a few minutes of useless meditation, Spock stands up from his cross-legged pose on the living area floor and slips his uniform off. Nyota has left his sleeping clothes on top of the covers and he quietly puts them on and pulls back the duvet, careful not to wake her. For a moment he sits on the side of the bed while he runs through his list of things he must do. The elders want to take an early transport once they reach Spacedock—they will probably expect him to arrange it. And his apartment in San Francisco will need to be packed and cleaned—he will need to contact the realtor and give up his lease...the utilities will need to be terminated, and his office finally cleared—he closes his eyes and feels a wave of fury. This is not the future he had planned, though he reminds himself that no one's plans are immune to change, even unpleasant or calamitous changes-

And then Nyota reaches up to touch him and for a moment he is afraid. It is not just this unwanted future that separates them now, but the lie, too, which had implied that he could step confidently down one branching path of a decision and come back without penalty. It had been a promise, but it had been more as well. It had been a statement of his feelings—and there, at last, he recognizes the source of his shame.

"You must decide which path you will take," his father had told him when he was a child, and at the time Spock had believed him. Only now does Spock recognize that the choice had been a sham, that Sarek had always expected him to be fully Vulcan.

Forget the myth—Vulcans can and do lie, but not without reason, and not without paying an emotional price. Even now his father implies that he has a choice that Spock knows he does not have. It is a different sort of lie than the ones his mother told, but it is a lie nevertheless.

The realization shakes him as he turns away from Nyota and pretends to sleep.

When he wakes much later he is surprised to hear his father's voice. For a moment he considers the possibilities—that his father is ill, that one of the elders needs sudden attention, that the ship is in distress and he is required on duty. He pushes back the duvet quickly and steps into the other room where his father and Nyota are seated opposite from each other.

The room is warmer than he usually keeps it for Nyota; his father has been here for some time, then. Both Nyota and his father stand up and face him and for a second he is confused—his father does not seem to be in any urgent need and Nyota is giving him a look of concern or sympathy, or perhaps she is merely tired. Dealing with both of them at the same time is difficult. When Nyota offers to leave, Spock nods and waits for her to dress. His father indicates that he is neither hungry nor thirsty, so there is nothing much to do except wait for Nyota to finish in the wash area.

As she moves to the door and reaches to touch him, Spock checks his internal clock and notes that the ship is scheduled to arrive at earth in 9.33 hours. His own shift will overlap the docking procedure, and then he will speak to the captain and start the official process of leaving. Only after the door closes and he pivots back towards his father does Spock consider that he may not have time to speak privately again to Nyota until they are off the ship. His chest feels suddenly tight and he meets his father's glance.

He cannot imagine what his father is thinking. He has barely begun to understand the depth of his own loss.

Sarek does not speak of Amanda now—it is not necessary, for he has spoken of her to Spock already, said the inadequate human words to express his feelings for her. Redundancy is not typical of Vulcans. Spock knows his father will not speak so openly again about Amanda.

So he is surprised when Sarek breaks off his recitation of the arrangements for the coming day and says words that would have sounded more natural coming from his mother.

"You do not have to give up your commission," he says. Spock can barely hear what he says next. Instead he focuses on his father's inscrutable dark eyes—trying to parse meaning from the intensity he sees there. Is his father offering him absolution after years of disapproval? That hardly seems likely, nor is it characteristic of Sarek to be charitable this way. Vulcan is in real need—his son has skills the new colony can use—any words offering a different future must be a lie.

Spock looks at his hands but he is listening to the meaning behind his father's words.

"You do not have to give up your commission," he says, but it sounds as hollow as _"You can choose the path you want to take."_ There had never been a choice when he was a child. He is not being offered a choice now—just the appearance of one. The lie makes him angry again, and again he struggles to consider the sacrifices others are making—have made—as well.

"Thank you, Father," he says, not because he is glad that his father has spoken these words, but because he knows what it has cost his father to speak them. No lie should rest easy, even when it is offered up in love.

Author's Note: Coming up—one more event that the three share. Let me know if I'm keeping the different POVs distinct enough to follow!


	4. Speak No Evil

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.

Tiny Warning: This chapter drifts closer to an M rating—nothing explicit, but you get the picture.

**Speak No Evil**

When she is angry, Nyota Uhura can be quietly furious, stubbornly argumentative, even physically assertive when necessary. She prides herself on maintaining her poise and persistence even when her ire is up; part of her Starfleet training has helped her funnel her first tendency to shout down an opponent into something more focused and effective.

Still, her friends and family have been known to call her pushy, bossy, direct to a fault. What they have never called her is passive aggressive.

Nyota hates passive aggressive behavior. She steers clear of people who employ it regularly—it feels manipulative and unfair, and she has always preferred her fights out in the open.

So she is surprised and dismayed to find herself being passive aggressive now. For the second time in two days Spock has sent her a message on her PADD, and both times she has ignored them. His computer connection will tell him that she has opened the messages. That she has not replied should tell him that she is too angry to respond.

She scrolls quickly down the other messages awaiting attention: an announcement that the Academy has polled the remaining students and has canceled the graduation ceremony after all; Starfleet will decide by the end of the week if the field commissions granted during the Battle of Vulcan will stand; a note from her mother asking if she won't reconsider and come home for a few days; and then, at the bottom of the list, a notice from the dorm council asking students to notify the office if any materials have not been picked up by the families of "non-returning cadets."

In a flash Nyota's anger washes out. She looks around the room at Gaila's clothes still strewn on her unmade bed, her lip glosses and pots of cheek glitter and hair ribbons crumpled in a happy mess as if waiting for her to waltz in and pick one up, grabbing Nyota's hand and demanding that she let her change her fingernail polish yet again.

She sits quietly cross-legged on her bed and then pulls the stylus from the side of the PADD and taps out a notice that she will take charge of packing up Gaila's things. And then while she is holding the stylus, she also rereads Spock's two messages.

"I will be home after 1600. Can you come by?"

That had been yesterday. Today's note is slightly different.

"I will be home after 1800. Will you please come by?"

Is she reading too much into that "please," into that change from the impersonal "can you" to the more conciliatory "will you"? Probably. She truly does not want to see him. The last time she had been in his apartment was when they had first returned to Earth, and they had parted so badly that she doesn't want to see him again—at least not there.

Twice in the week since they have gotten home she had caught a glimpse of him across the Academy grounds and was upset at how her heart had raced and how she had instinctively reached up a hand to catch his attention before remembering.

Even now as she balances the PADD on her knee and considers what to do, she thinks of the afternoon they had spent sitting facing each other on his sofa, his face anguished as he struggled to tell her what the Vulcan elders had asked, what he had replied, and his intention to join his father in the next few days to help settle the colony.

At first Nyota had tried to listen carefully, tried to offer understanding and even sympathy, until the afternoon stretched on and she finally began to hear what he was telling her—that he was leaving for good—this was not, as she had imagined at first, a temporary assistance he was offering, but a sea change in the course of his life...and he had made it without saying a word to her.

If she hadn't been so surprised, she would have felt betrayed. But even as she was starting to rearrange her own recognition of what this said about their relationship—not to mention any future they might have had—part of her was desperately thinking up a way to make it untrue, to convince him to stay, to keep the promise he had made when he thought he might die_—"I will be back."_

"You lied to me," she had said, and though they were sitting sideways on the sofa, knees pulled up and touching, she had suddenly felt their distance.

Spock made to stand up then and Nyota pulled on his arm to bring him back.

"Nyota—" he said, and she had leaned forward and put her hands on his shoulders.

"You don't want to go," she said, and Spock looked away. Still he did not try to rise and Nyota said, "You lied then because you didn't want to go, and you don't want to go now. Then why—"

"Nyota—" Spock said again, turning to pull her hands from his shoulders.

But she was too quick for him; she turned her palms up and slid her hands into his. He stopped moving and she felt the familiar flash of his mind as their fingers touched. His eyes closed and she could see his discomfort in her mind, and his overwhelming sadness, and there, underneath it all, his unwanted arousal as she leaned closer and pressed them backward along the length of the sofa.

Often when they had made love in the past, Nyota had imagined herself walking along a precipice—one too fearful to look over, yet beckoning for all that...and then when the cliff was steepest and the way down too far to imagine, Spock would brush his fingers across her psi points and she would feel herself both in his mind and in her own body, and the intensity would carry them both to a climax. Not a mind meld—for Spock kept his own thoughts carefully focused on the moment and never intruded into Nyota's private ideas—but a communion that has become essential to their sense of themselves as a couple.

On the sofa Nyota heard Spock's breathing becoming ragged and she felt an unreasoning joy that he was reacting to her, pulling her to him—though roughly and with a sense of urgency that she should have read for what it was—grief disguised as lovemaking, sorrow drowned by sensation.

They did not undress. Instead, they reached for each other under rucked up shirts, slid aside Nyota's skirt and unbuttoned and unzipped their pants and jackets without ever rising from the sofa. Without realizing how, Nyota found herself rolled over suddenly, Spock's face inches from her own.

Nor did they kiss. Instead, Spock looked at Nyota's face steadily with an expression she had never seen, moving back slightly when she tried to crane up to kiss him.

She felt herself responding to his movements, rough as they were, and she closed her eyes to concentrate. Here was the familiar crescendo, the rising of sensation that meant she would topple over the precipice soon—and she reached up to gather Spock's hands to bring them to her face. To her surprise he pressed her wrists backward with his own to the sofa, her elbows bent, their hands untouching.

She had not had a human lover in several years and had forgotten what it was to make love mind-blind—touching only a body and staying locked inside one's own thoughts and feelings. How lonely it was! Why hadn't she realized this before now?

She was confused and hurt—and then he did kiss her, hard and suddenly—and despite her disappointment, she felt her body betray her as she tottered up to the familiar cliff, looked over, and fell.

Later they lay tangled in each other's arms on the sofa, and finally Nyota realized what he had tried to tell her all afternoon. She had lost him.

They lay there quietly talking until the sun had gone down. It had been a useless conversation—"Why didn't you tell me you were thinking of leaving Starfleet?" had sounded petulant, even to her, and Spock's reply had been both blamelessly logical and amazingly hurtful: "To what purpose, Nyota? I could not ask you to give up what you have worked for."

The sun had completely set and a wet breeze was blowing in from the Pacific when they had finally parted. They said little at the end—and Nyota had gone back to the dark dorm room cluttered with evidence of another lost relationship and had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

So now he has sent her two messages, and she has to decide if seeing him again will hurt more than not seeing him again. She holds the stylus over the PADD and finally taps out, "Yes."

X X X X X X X X

The second time she presses the door chime, Nyota realizes that Spock is not home. She glances at the chronometer on her arm and tamps down her annoyance. She is a few minutes early. The breeze this evening is damp—not unusual for San Francisco—and she wishes she had remembered to bring a heavier sweater. For a moment she considers leaving, but before she can stop it, her hand darts out and punches in the key code to the apartment building. When she hears the electric snap of the bolt being pulled back, she shoves the outside door with her shoulder and goes inside.

Spock's apartment is the first one on the left, and in a few short steps she is at his front door. Through a louvered window inset in the door, she can tell that a light is on inside. In another moment she has keyed in the code and pushed open the door.

Although she is certain no one is home, she calls out anyway. Along one wall she notices several unsealed boxes, though she is surprised that so much is still left to be packed. The furniture doesn't appear to have been moved—perhaps he has sold it to the incoming tenants.

The comfortable familiarity of the apartment makes her chest hurt—she notices that Spock has not packed up his hologram pictures or his computer equipment. She had not considered before that he will probably need to leave behind most of the things he owns. His was already a stripped down life. That his new life will be even more spartan brings Nyota an unexpected pang.

She has drifted into the kitchen and is lifting up the top on a clay tagine bubbling on the cooker when the door chime startles her. Not Spock, then. A neighbor? In all the time she has spent in this apartment, she has rarely seen Spock's neighbors—so that seems unlikely. The new tenants?

When she swings open the door she has an eerie moment of _deja vu_. Sarek stands there, obviously chilled, his cheeks rough from the cold.

After her initial surprise, Nyota is dismayed to be awash in anger. Surely he can leave them alone for one evening? She swallows instead and says, "Ambassador, come in. I'm not sure where Spock is."

Sarek steps through the door without dropping his gaze and Nyota feels as she did the first time he had visited Spock's cabin on the Enterprise, discomfited and unable to read him.

"Spock had to stop at the realtor's office," he says, his black eyes still boring into Nyota's. "He asked me to have you wait."

Nyota takes in a breath and is about to reply when Sarek adds, "If you will."

Why is he here, she wonders, as she leads him to the sofa and parks herself on one end. She hopes Spock comes soon and she can get whatever it is she has left here—for she has decided that that must be the reason for his summons, that in his packing he has set aside clothes she has left by habit, or, now that she realizes how little he is taking, perhaps he wants her to have some of the things they shared—his teapot, for instance, or the holograms of them in their private moments.

Sarek does not sit but stands with one wrist held in his other hand behind his back—Nyota feels a flicker of annoyance that he is so imperturbable, even standing, apparently unruffled by the events of the past two weeks or the challenges of the future. Even though she knows she is being rude, she stares at his expression and wonders what he thinks about when he looks at her.

He had been so cold on the Enterprise—had he known then that Spock was leaving Starfleet? How foolish she must have seemed to him—a young woman without a clue, someone walking blindly into the future.

That is unfair, she thinks, and she lowers her eyes. If she has learned anything lately, it is that no one can guess the future.

"Ambassador—"

"Lieutenant—"

They speak at the same time and then stop. Nyota gestures to the sofa and adds, "Would you care to sit down?" but Sarek does not seem to have heard her. He takes a step closer and peers down at her, expressionless, distant, though Nyota senses something she cannot name. When he speaks, his voice is the same it always is—self-assured and direct, but she thinks she hears an undercurrent of something new. She frowns as she tries to listen more carefully.

"Lieutenant," he says again, "I want to say that—"

And then he pauses, and Nyota's frown deepens.

"More precisely," he starts again, "I need to tell you that your kindness to my son has not gone unnoticed."

Nyota is silent, and Sarek seems to be at a loss for words.

"Yes?" she prompts.

Abruptly, Sarek sits down. Again Nyota feels that odd sensation that signals something underlying his words.

"Expressive communication has never been my strength," Sarek says, and Nyota waits for him to continue. "If my wife were here, she would be able to tell you—as I am trying to tell you—that I am glad that you have cared for Spock."

At this she nods, and even as she does, she thinks how unusual it is to hear a Vulcan comment on the obvious. This must be a measure of his difficulty with expressive communication, as he called it. Before he takes his son away, he is asking for her blessing—he cannot simply be acknowledging what he knows to be true.

She nods and says, "I will always care for Spock."

And there, as she looks up, she sees a definite change in Sarek's expression. His eyebrows rise slightly, and the angle of his head dips—he is feeling surprise?

Nyota Uhura can be many things when she is angry, and at that moment she is so angry that she does not censor what she says.

"Are you surprised that a mere human can love your son, can continue to love your son, even when we cannot be together? Are Vulcans so empty of feelings that you cannot imagine what it is to be loved, really and truly loved, even when loving someone means that you have to let that person go?"

At once she is abashed—and she puts her hands to her mouth, to stifle herself, to signal her shock at what she has said to this man who has lost so much.

Sarek unclasps his hands from behind his back and says, "No, Lieutenant, we are not that empty. And I do know something about the love of mere humans. And about letting someone go."

Before she can speak, he rises and turns towards the door and there is Spock, standing in the open doorway.

"Father—" he says, but Sarek touches him on the arm and steps beyond him into the hall. The distant clang as the outside door shuts makes Nyota jump, and she looks up at Spock with genuine remorse.

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone for leaving such helpful reviews! Let me know your thoughts—I don't have Vulcan telepathy! Sarek's take on this conversation is up next.

Thanks to StarTrekFanWriter for all her help, both editorial and technical! If you are a Sarek/Amanda fan, catch up with her chaptered fic The Native.


	5. The Persistence of Memory

**Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.**

**Chapters 1 - 3 happen on the Enterprise shortly after the Battle of Vulcan. Chapters 4 - 6 are about a week later on Earth. They tell how Nyota, Sarek, and Spock "see" things differently. This chapter retells Chapter 4 from Sarek's POV. **

**The Persistence of Memory**

When Spock opens the door, Sarek notices the aroma of ginger and cumin.

"You are cooking an evening meal?" he asks as Spock closes the door behind him. He sweeps the apartment with a quick look. The same boxes are half-filled that were half-filled earlier in the day. Nothing seems different, except that the red clay tagine that Amanda had given Spock years ago when he first left for Earth is sitting on the cooker, obviously in use.

"The elders are meeting shortly—" he begins, and then it dawns on him. Spock has changed his mind.

Spock's back is to his father as he pulls something from a kitchen cabinet and picks up the tagine top. His motions are deliberate and calm—calmer than Sarek can remember seeing him since-well, since the day Amanda died. Something has happened.

If he asks now, Spock will retreat in anger as he always does, Sarek thinks. It is tedious to have to wait, but protesting the nature of their relationship is a waste of time and illogical. One day, Sarek hopes, Spock will not interpret every question as an inquisition. Without Amanda to run her usual interference, this may be problematic.

And yet he was the one who had pressed so hard for a child. Sarek thinks, as he often does but rarely acknowledges, about the sorrow of losing a child—first Sybok, of course, but then with Amanda, the two unborn children who grew to twenty-four weeks and then stopped thriving for no reason that the healers could ever identify—tiny, perfectly-formed, a girl and a boy. And Amanda's withdrawal from him for so long that he had despaired that the marriage could not be saved. Her refusal, time and again, when he asked about a medical intervention, another pregnancy.

"_I can't bear to lose another one,_" she had said tearfully when he had pressed her hard, and at last he had stopped asking, until two years later as they had lain together in their own bed on Vulcan after he had been away for weeks on a difficult trade mission, Amanda had forcefully and quietly said, "I'm ready to try again."

As he watches Spock moving confidently in the kitchen, Sarek beats back the memories of the lost children and wishes—illogically, sorrowfully—that Amanda were here to see him.

"I shall not be eating with you and the elders tonight," Spock says, interrupting Sarek's musings. "I have other company planned."

"The Lieutenant?" Sarek asks, and immediately he is sorry; Spock flashes a look of annoyance.

Asking for clarification is making Spock angry, but not asking for it is illogical, so Sarek presses on. "You have decided not to join the colony? Why, Spock?"

To Sarek's surprise, when Spock turns back from the cooker he is not angry at all—in fact, he looks bemused, his cheek quirked up and his eyes wide.

"Someone convinced me to do otherwise," he says, and again the look of bemusement flickers across his face. Now it is Sarek's turn to feel annoyed.

"The Lieutenant?"

"Her name is Nyota, and no, she would not ask that. Though she wants me to stay. No, someone else. I would rather not discuss this further."

Sarek takes a deep breath and considers what he is feeling. Shock, or something like it, of course, and disappointment, though not because he disapproves of Spock's decision but because, he realizes, he had hoped to spend the time with his son at his side at last—

And he feels relief, too, and that also surprises him. Spock will not have to lose yet another person.

"I have to tell the realtor I am not giving up the lease," Spock says, and Sarek nods. When Spock opens a nearby closet and pulls out a heavy coat, Sarek says, "Right now?"

"I tried to send an electronic signature earlier but the realtor's scanner is down, and if I do not sign today, I lose the apartment. His office is 1.2 miles down the street. Nyota may come by before I return."

In a whirl of motion and breeze, he is gone, and Sarek considers what he needs to do next. Notify the elders, of course, and cancel Spock's place on the colony transport to save the fee. He has left his comm in his hired transport outside. He could have driven Spock to the realtor—but no, he recognizes that force of purpose when Spock has made up his mind—his tendency to dash off to his early _Kahs-wan_, for instance, or his impetuous choice to turn down the Vulcan Science Academy.

Sarek forces back those thoughts—they are unhelpful now and will only interfere by causing him distress. Accepting Spock for who he is will always be his task as a father, he thinks. He wonders briefly if Spock will ever reciprocate the effort.

X X X X X X X X

The comm is right where he left it. The walk back up the steep hill to the apartment building is unpleasantly cold, and once again Sarek wonders how Spock can live here. The deserts of Vulcan are cold at night, but this cold on Earth is murky and chilling, and Sarek has a sudden memory of Amanda laughing at him and saying that he looked like a wet cat whenever they visited San Francisco.

He wonders if he should work harder to suppress those kinds of memories. Paradoxically, they seem to cause him both pleasure and pain...

When he returns to the apartment he can hear immediately that someone is inside. The Lieutenant, then-Nyota. To avoid startling her, he presses the door chime instead of keying his entrance.

She is surprised anyway—and something else, though Sarek is not sure. Is she anxious that he might blame her for Spock's decision to stay in Starfleet? Despite Spock's earlier denial, Sarek has no doubt that part of his reason—if not most of it—involves his relationship with this woman.

He feels a twinge of remorse when he remembers thinking that human couplings were easy to dissolve. He and Amanda...he stops himself from going down that train of thought.

"I don't know where Spock is," he hears the Lieutenant saying, and because it is his nature to supply information, he tells her. That same odd look creases her brow. This information was unknown to her, or makes her uncomfortable for some reason. He decides not to encroach on her any more than is necessary and refrains from sitting on the sofa, opting to stand respectfully while he ponders what to say to put her at ease.

The silence stretches on uncomfortably and he has the sensation he often has around humans, that something is expected that is a mystery to him. He starts to speak, but so does the Lieutenant. Before Spock returns it is imperative that he says what he must say to her alone, but he does not know how to begin.

He steps closer in what he hopes is a gesture of friendliness.

"Lieutenant, I want to say that—"

As he watches the Lieutenant's eyebrows furrow, he knows he is not expressing himself adequately.

Mentally he runs through his diction and decides that his verb choice is ambiguous. The words he says next are not just words he _wants_ to say, but words he _needs_ to say, for Spock's sake, and for his relationship with his son, and perhaps even for the Lieutenant herself.

"More precisely," he says, "I need to tell you that your kindness to my son has not gone unnoticed."

There. That's done. Now she knows that their intimacies have been noted and his gratitude expressed. But the Lieutenant indicates that he should say something else. This is just the kind of conversation that trips him up when he talks to humans he does not know well-suppressing his irritation, Sarek sits so he can focus and tries again.

"If my wife were here..." he says, and even as his words tumble out of his mouth, he pictures Amanda so clearly that he can hear her voice, "...she would be able to tell you—as I am trying to tell you—that I am glad that you have cared for Spock."

"I will always care for Spock," the Lieutenant says, and this time, perhaps because Amanda is so close in his thoughts, he registers the sadness in her voice. For a moment he is puzzled—and then he knows. Spock has not told her yet about his decision to stay.

Suddenly the tagine on the cooker makes sense. He plans to tell her tonight. Sarek bites back his inclination to clear up her confusion.

Her fury is swift and unexpected, and Sarek leans away when she raises her voice.

"Are you surprised that a mere human can love your son, can continue to love your son, even when we cannot be together? Are Vulcans so empty of feelings that you cannot imagine what it is to be loved, really and truly loved, even when loving someone means that you have to let that person go?"

Sarek watches the Lieutenant try to take back her words—he knows the significance of the motions, has seen other humans place their hands just so over their mouths. Logic is a refuge for those who feel such strong emotions, he thinks, but he mentally intones this more to calm himself than as a commentary about the Lieutenant. Logic now suggests that he quietly leave and allow Spock—who had opened the door 34 seconds ago—to sort out what needs to be said.

Logic suggests he say nothing, but Sarek is not made of stone, and his control these days is not what it has been in the past.

"No, Lieutenant, we are not that empty. And I do know something about the love of mere humans. And about letting someone go."

Spock reaches out to him but Sarek knows he will have time to talk to him tomorrow before the elders begin loading the transport. No one needs his presence tonight. It is a type of freedom, he thinks, that he would rather do without.

**Author's Notes: What you think so far of the different POVs? Has anyone reread two chapters back-to-back to compare them? If so, let me know if it works! Reviews are the only way I hear how I'm doing. One final chapter in this set-from Spock's view-coming up tomorrow.**

**Thanks, again, to StarTrekFanWriter for her help and comments. Her story, Descartes Error, is what got me hooked on fanfiction!**


	6. Revelation

**Disclaimer: These characters are not mine!**

**Revelation**

Two growing seasons spoiled by uncontrolled monsoons in Eurasia have made ginger a delicacy these days, but Spock wants the meal tonight to be perfect—no, not perfect...a meal cannot be perfect, but as pleasant as possible—so he travels to three different food markets before finding fresh ginger the quality that he requires. The rest of the vegetable dish is easier to find—summer squashes and carrots and onions—a dish his mother often made on Vulcan, though with different vegetables.

Later in the kitchen as he washes and slices the food he has warm thoughts of Amanda doing the same back home—and he is pleased that he is able to think of her without great pain. Perhaps this is how grief works—ebbing away slowly. Of course this is a false conclusion, he amends quickly. Yesterday he had unexpectedly seen a hologram of her and had felt such sorrow that he had to stop sorting through the box of pictures and sit for a few moments of meditation.

For the first time in a week he does not move around his apartment like a man condemned to the gallows. Until he no longer felt it, he had not realized what a burden he had carried, how it had dragged on his footsteps and stooped his shoulders. But now—

He hears the outside door respond to a key code and calculates that this is his father coming to fetch him for the evening meeting with the elders. Wiping his hands on a small towel, he steps quickly to the front door and opens it before Sarek can press the code or ring the chime.

Spock watches his father surreptitiously as he closes the door, and sure enough, he sees Sarek's gaze pan around the apartment. He wonders how long before his father figures it out.

Not long. Sarek starts to speak and then stops, and Spock returns to the kitchen and the meal he is preparing. Over the sound of the steaming vegetables he can hear his father's measured breathing. His father does not seem to be troubled by the same disturbing memories of his mother that trouble him—Spock feels the familiar shame about his imperfect human control. When he was a child he had always admired his father's ability to remain balanced and steady.

That control has served Sarek well in the past two weeks—and Spock wishes, as he always wishes, that he could have the same demeanor.

At least he knows that his announcement will cause his father little discomfort, then—indeed, when he tells his father that he will not be joining the elders on the colony, Sarek's detachment is cool. Spock's own detachment is flawed—he cannot help but feel...joyous, yes, or jubilant...or any other word that expresses his relief at being given permission to follow his dream instead of his duty.

Tonight after he and Nyota talk, he will have to spend many hours alone in contemplation. He's not quite sure that he will be able to tell her about the other Spock, his future self. Would a lie of omission be as disturbing as his earlier lie on the transporter pad? He weighs the odds and decides that he will have to tell her, though he may save the details for later, when they are both back on the Enterprise, when some time has slipped past and the hurt from decisions made and unmade have had time to be assimilated.

But for now he has to secure the apartment, and finish the meal, and as he rushes from the apartment, he takes a moment to register his father's expression—resignation, certainly, but something else there, too—an acceptance and tolerance that Spock has rarely felt from him.

X X X X X X X

"You should invest in more reliable equipment," Spock tells the realtor as he signs the lease and hands it back to him. "The problem with your scanner has consumed 22 minutes of my time."

The realtor's lack of expression indicates a high probability that he will not remedy the situation. Spock decides not to press the matter and he walks as quickly as he can back up the steep street to his apartment building. By now Nyota should be there, or on her way. He raises an eyebrow in surprise at how happy the idea makes him—how happy he felt when she had finally answered his note. For one miserable day he had calculated the odds that she would not-and the very real possibility that their relationship could not be repaired, not even when they were both again on the _Enterprise_.

For he will be back on the _Enterprise_ soon—the first thing he had done after seeing the other Spock was to check the manifest for the list of personnel—and cross-match it with the current candidates from Starfleet. No one else is remotely as qualified as he is for the position of first officer—it is not arrogance that leads him to this conclusion, but logic.

He hears her voice before he sees her—she is talking so loudly that when he swings the door forward she does not look up, and though his father does not either, some subtle shift in Sarek's posture lets Spock know that he is aware of him in the doorway.

The words crash around Spock's ears—he is preoccupied with watching the drama of Nyota's movements—her hands raised to her face, her eyes wide and upset—and his father's complete and utter loss of what Spock had thought of as unbreakable centeredness—Spock watches as something inside his father caves in, his face heavy with terrible loss.

When he moves forward toward him, Sarek stops him and brushes his arm. Spock feels a bright flare as his father's mind flutters past his own, and it is enough to reassure Spock that although Sarek has been shaken, he is not shattered.

X X X X X X X X

The evening is a contradiction of confusing stories and unspoken tenderness. At first Nyota urges Spock to follow Sarek, to make sure he gets back to his hotel safely, but Spock insists that his father _is _fine.

"But how do you know?" she asks, and Spock raises one finger to her cheek and then another, and he does what he has never dared to do before: he shows her not only what he is sensing at the moment but more, too—the spot in his consciousness always occupied by the bond Vulcan parents and their children share—the awareness of his father like a dim light in a shadowed hallway, the place where he had always felt his mother's presence, now dark and silent—and because Nyota sends back a wave of her own sorrow, he shows her a memory of his mother working in her garden...the curve of her cheek, the warmth of her eyes beckoning him to join her—the feel of the sandy red soil on his hands as he helped her plant desert succulents in tidy rows...

...and then he leads Nyota's mind from his memories to his imagination—to his anticipation of the mathematical, sexual precision of heat and motion, of being tousled soon with her like an interlocking equation...

...but for now they are still sitting here, knee-to-knee on the sofa, their thoughts gently intertwined. Spock opens his eyes, inches from Nyota's upturned face, and remembers the moment on the transporter pad when he had said "_I will be back_"—it is not a lie, and he lets go of it with a sense of relief.

X X X X X X X X X X

By the time they eat, the vegetables are badly overcooked, but Spock doesn't care. It is hours later, in fact, that he remembers the tagine and lifts the lid to see the soggy, aromatic mess. He offers it anyway, and they eat it in the bed, cross-legged, wearing their sleeping clothes that they have finally put on against the chill.

**Author's Notes: And thus this event ends-please let me know what you think. That's my only pay!**


End file.
